Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan: Kitsune

Lafcadio Hearn's accounts of his travels through Japan contain
dozens of scattered references to kitsune, plus an entire chapter
devoted to them. This is that chapter. If you would like to read
the rest of the book, it's here.

1

By every shady wayside and in every ancient grove, on almost every
hilltop and in the outskirts of every village, you may see, while
travelling through the Hondo country, some little Shinto shrine,
before which, or at either side of which, are images of seated foxes
in stone. Usually there is a pair of these, facing each other. But
there may be a dozen, or a score, or several hundred, in which case
most of the images are very small. And in more than one of the larger
towns you may see in the court of some great miya a countless host
of stone foxes, of all dimensions, from toy-figures but a few inches
high to the colossi whose pedestals tower above your head, all squatting
around the temple in tiered ranks of thousands. Such shrines and
temples, everybody knows, are dedicated to Inari the God of Rice.
After having travelled much in Japan, you will find that whenever
you try to recall any country-place you have visited, there will
appear in some nook or corner of that remembrance a pair of green-and-grey
foxes of stone, with broken noses. In my own memories of Japanese
travel, these shapes have become de rigueur, as picturesque detail.

In the neighbourhood of the capital and in Tokyo itself-sometimes
in
the cemeteriesvery beautiful idealised figures of foxes may be
seen,
elegant as greyhounds. They have long green or grey eyes of crystal
quartz or some other diaphanous substance; and they create a strong
impression as mythological conceptions. But throughout the interior,
fox-images are much less artistically fashioned. In Izumo, particularly,
such stone-carving has a decidedly primitive appearance. There is
an
astonishing multiplicity and variety of fox-images in the Province
of
the Godsimages comical, quaint, grotesque, or monstrous, but,
for the
most part, very rudely chiselled. I cannot, however, declare them
less
interesting on that account. The work of the Tokkaido sculptor copies
the conventional artistic notion of light grace and ghostliness.
The
rustic foxes of Izumo have no grace: they are uncouth; but they
betray
in countless queer ways the personal fancies of their makers. They
are
of many moodswhimsical, apathetic, inquisitive, saturnine, jocose,
ironical; they watch and snooze and squint and wink and sneer; they
wait with lurking smiles; they listen with cocked ears most stealthily,
keeping their mouths open or closed. There is an amusing individuality
about them all, and an air of knowing mockery about most of them,
even those whose noses have been broken off. Moreover, these ancient
country foxes have certain natural beauties which their modem Tokyo
kindred cannot show. Time has bestowed upon them divers speckled
coats of beautiful soft colours while they have been sitting on
their pedestals, listening to the ebbing and flowing of the centuries
and snickering weirdly at mankind. Their backs are clad with finest
green velvet of old mosses; their limbs are spotted and their tails
are tipped with the dead gold or the dead silver of delicate fungi.
And the places they most haunt are the loveliesthigh shadowy groves
where the uguisu sings in green twilight, above some voiceless shrine
with its lamps and its lions of stone so mossed as to seem things
born of the soillike mushrooms.

I found it difficult to understand why, out of every thousand foxes,
nine hundred should have broken noses. The main street of the city
of
Matsue might be paved from end to end with the tips of the noses
of
mutilated Izumo foxes. A friend answered my expression of wonder
in this regard by the simple but suggestive word, "Kodomo", which
means, "The children"

2.

Inari the name by which the Fox-God is generally known, signifies
"Load-of-Rice." But the antique name of the Deity is the
August-Spirit-of-Food: he is the Uka-no-mi-tama-no-mikoto of the
Kojiki. [1] In much more recent times only has he borne the name
that indicates his connection with the fox-cult, Miketsu-no-Kami,
or the Three-Fox-God. Indeed, the conception of the fox as a supernatural
being does not seem to have been introduced into Japan before the
tenth or eleventh century; and although a shrine of the deity, with
statues of foxes, may be found in the court of most of the large
Shinto temples, it is worthy of note that in all the vast domains
of the oldest Shinto shrine in JapanKitzukiyou cannot
find the image of a fox. And it is only in modern artthe art
of Toyokuni and othersthat Inari is represented as a bearded
man riding a white fox. [2]

Inari is not worshipped as the God of Rice only; indeed, there
are many
Inari just as in antique Greece there were many deities called Hermes,
Zeus, Athena, Poseidonone in the knowledge of the learned, but
essentially different in the imagination of the common people. Inari
has
been multiplied by reason of his different attributes. For instance,
Matsue has a Kamiya-San-no-Inari-San, who is the God of Coughs and
Bad
Coldsafflictions extremely common and remarkably severe in the
Land
of Izumo. He has a temple in the Kamachi at which he is worshipped
under
the vulgar appellation of Kaze-no-Kami and the politer one of Kamiya-San-no-Inari. And those who are cured of their coughs and colds
after
having prayed to him, bring to his temple offerings of tofu.

At Oba, likewise, there is a particular Inari, of great fame. Fastened
to the wall of his shrine is a large box full of small clay foxes.
The
pilgrim who has a prayer to make puts one of these little foxes
in his
sleeve and carries it home, He must keep it, and pay it all due
honour,
until such time as his petition has been granted. Then he must take
it
back to the temple, and restore it to the box, and, if he be able,
make
some small gift to the shrine.

Inari is often worshipped as a healer; and still more frequently
as a
deity having power to give wealth. (Perhaps because all the wealth
of
Old Japan was reckoned in koku of rice.) Therefore his foxes are
sometimes represented holding keys in their mouths. And from being
the
deity who gives wealth, Inari has also become in some localities
the
special divinity of the joro class. There is, for example, an Inari
temple worth visiting in the neighbourhood of the Yoshiwara at Yokohama.
It stands in the same court with a temple of Benten, and is more
than
usually large for a shrine of Inari. You approach it through a
succession of torii one behind the other: they are of different
heights,
diminishing in size as they are placed nearer to the temple, and
planted
more and more closely in proportion to their smallness. Before each
torii sit a pair of weird foxesone to the right and one to the
left.
The first pair are large as greyhounds; the second two are much
smaller;
and the sizes of the rest lessen as the dimensions of the torii
lessen.
At the foot of the wooden steps of the temple there is a pair of
very
graceful foxes of dark grey stone, wearing pieces of red cloth about
their necks. Upon the steps themselves are white wooden foxesone
at
each end of each stepeach successive pair being smaller than the
pair
below; and at the threshold of the doorway are two very little foxes,
not more than three inches high, sitting on sky-blue pedestals.
These
have the tips of their tails gilded. Then, if you look into the
temple
you will see on the left something like a long low table on which
are
placed thousands of tiny fox-images, even smaller than those in
the
doorway, having only plain white tails. There is no image of Inari;
indeed, I have never seen an image of Inari as yet in any Inari
temple.
On the altar appear the usual emblems of Shinto; and before it,
just
opposite the doorway, stands a sort of lantern, having glass sides
and a
wooden bottom studded with nail-points on which to fix votive candles.
[3]

And here, from time to time, if you will watch, you will probably
see
more than one handsome girl, with brightly painted lips and the
beautiful antique attire that no maiden or wife may wear, come to
the
foot of the steps, toss a coin into the money-box at the door, and
call
out: "O-rosoku!" which means "an honourable candle." Immediately,
from
an inner chamber, some old man will enter the shrine-room with a
lighted
candle, stick it upon a nail-point in the lantern, and then retire.
Such
candle-offerings are always accompanied by secret prayers for good-fortune. But this Inari is worshipped by many besides members of
the
joro class.

The pieces of coloured cloth about the necks of the foxes are also
votive offerings.

3

Fox-images in Izumo seem to be more numerous than in other provinces,
and they are symbols there, so far as the mass of the peasantry
is
concerned, of something else besides the worship of the Rice-Deity.
Indeed, the old conception of the Deity of Rice-fields has been
overshadowed and almost effaced among the lowest classes by a weird
cult
totally foreign to the spirit of pure Shintothe Fox-cult. The
worship
of the retainer has almost replaced the worship of the god. Originally
the Fox was sacred to Inari only as the Tortoise is still sacred
to
Kompira; the Deer to the Great Deity of Kasuga; the Rat to Daikoku;
the
Tai-fish to Ebisu; the White Serpent to Benten; or the Centipede
to
Bishamon, God of Battles. But in the course of centuries the Fox
usurped
divinity. And the stone images of him are not the only outward evidences
of his cult. At the rear of almost every Inari temple you will generally
find in the wall of the shrine building, one or two feet above the
ground, an aperture about eight inches in diameter and perfectly
circular. It is often made so as to be closed at will by a sliding
plank. This circular orifice is a Fox-hole, and if you find one
open,
and look within, you will probably see offerings of tofu or other
food
which foxes are supposed to be fond of. You will also, most likely,
find
grains of rice scattered on some little projection of woodwork below
or
near the hole, or placed on the edge of the hole itself; and you
may see
some peasant clap his hands before the hole, utter some little prayer,
and swallow a grain or two of that rice in the belief that it will
either cure or prevent sickness. Now the fox for whom such a hole
is
made is an invisible fox, a phantom foxthe fox respectfully referred
to by the peasant as O-Kitsune-San. If he ever suffers himself to
become
visible, his colour is said to be snowy white.

According to some, there are various kinds of ghostly foxes. According
to others, there are two sorts of foxes only, the Inari-fox (O-Kitsune-San) and the wild fox (kitsune). Some people again class foxes into
Superior and Inferior Foxes, and allege the existence of four Superior
SortsByakko, Kokko, Jenko, and Reikoall of which possess
supernatural powers. Others again count only three kinds of foxesthe
Field-fox, the Man-fox, and the Inari-fox. But many confound the
Field-fox or wild fox with the Man-fox, and others identify the Inari-fox
with
the Man-fox. One cannot possibly unravel the confusion of these
beliefs,
especially among the peasantry. The beliefs vary, moreover, in different
districts. I have only been able, after a residence of fourteen
months
in Izumo, where the superstition is especially strong, and marked
by
certain unique features, to make the following very loose summary
of
them:

All foxes have supernatural power. There are good and bad foxes.
The
Inari-fox is good, and the bad foxes are afraid of the Inari-fox.
The
worst fox is the Ninko or Hito-kitsune (Man-fox): this is especially
the
fox of demoniacal possession. It is no larger than a weasel, and
somewhat similar in shape, except for its tail, which is like the
tail
of any other fox. It is rarely seen, keeping itself invisible, except
to
those to whom it attaches itself. It likes to live in the houses
of men,
and to be nourished by them, and to the homes where it is well cared
for
it will bring prosperity. It will take care that the rice-fields
shall
never want for water, nor the cooking-pot for rice. But if offended,
it
will bring misfortune to the household, and ruin to the crops. The
wild
fox (Nogitsune) is also bad. It also sometimes takes possession
of
people; but it is especially a wizard, and prefers to deceive by
enchantment. It has the power of assuming any shape and of making
itself
invisible; but the dog can always see it, so that it is extremely
afraid
of the dog. Moreover, while assuming another shape, if its shadow
fall
upon water, the water will only reflect the shadow of a fox. The
peasantry kill it; but he who kills a fox incurs the risk of being
bewitched by that fox's kindred, or even by the ki, or ghost of
the fox.
Still if one eat the flesh of a fox, he cannot be enchanted afterwards.
The Nogitsune also enters houses. Most families having foxes in
their
houses have only the small kind, or Ninko; but occasionally both
kinds
will live together under the same roof. Some people say that if
the
Nogitsune lives a hundred years it becomes all white, and then takes
rank as an Inari-fox.

There are curious contradictions involved in these beliefs, and
other
contradictions will be found in the following pages of this sketch.
To
define the fox-superstition at all is difficult, not only on account
of
the confusion of ideas on the subject among the believers themselves,
but also on account of the variety of elements out of which it has
been
shapen. Its origin is Chinese [4]; but in Japan it became oddly
blended
with the worship of a Shinto deity, and again modified and expanded
by
the Buddhist concepts of thaumaturgy and magic. So far as the common
people are concerned, it is perhaps safe to say that they pay devotion
to foxes chiefly because they fear them. The peasant still worships
what
he fears.

4

It is more than doubtful whether the popular notions about different
classes of foxes, and about the distinction between the fox of Inari
and
the fox of possession, were ever much more clearly established than
they
are now, except in the books of old literati. Indeed, there exists
a
letter from Hideyoshi to the Fox-God which would seem to show that
in
the time of the great Taiko the Inari-fox and the demon fox were
considered identical. This letter is still preserved at Nara, in
the
Buddhist temple called Todaiji:

KYOTO, the seventeenth day of the Third Month.

TO INARI DAIMYOJIN:

My LordI have the honour to inform you that one of the foxes
under
your jurisdiction has bewitched one of my servants, causing her
and
others a great deal of trouble. I have to request that you will
make
minute inquiries into the matter, and endeavour to find out the
reason
of your subject misbehaving in this way, and let me know the result.

If it turns out that the fox has no adequate reason to give for
his
behaviour, you are to arrest and punish him at once. If you hesitate
to
take action in this matter, I shall issue orders for the destruction
of
every fox in the land.

Any other particulars that you may wish to be informed of in reference
to what has occurred, you can learn from the high-priest YOSHIDA.

Apologising for the imperfections of this letter, I have the honour
to be Your obedient servant,
Your obedient servant,
HIDEYOSHI TAIKO [5]

But there certainly were some distinctions established in localities,
owing to the worship of Inari by the military caste. With the samurai
of
Izumo, the Rice-God, for obvious reasons, was a highly popular deity;
and you can still find in the garden of almost every old shizoku
residence in Matsue, a small shrine of Inari Daimyojin, with little
stone foxes seated before it. And in the imagination of the lower
classes, all samurai families possessed foxes. But the samurai foxes
inspired no fear. They were believed to be "good foxes"; and the
superstition of the Ninko or Hito-kitsune does not seem to have
unpleasantly affected any samurai families of Matsue during the
feudal
era. It is only since the military caste has been abolished, and
its
name, simply as a body of gentry, changed to shizoku, [6] that some
families have become victims of the superstition through intermarriage
with the chonin or mercantile classes, among whom the belief has
always
been strong.

By the peasantry the Matsudaira daimyo of Izumo were supposed to
be the
greatest fox-possessors. One of them was believed to use foxes as
messengers to Tokyo (be it observed that a fox can travel, according
to
popular credence, from Yokohama to London in a few hours); and there
is
some Matsue story about a fox having been caught in a trap [7] near
Tokyo, attached to whose neck was a letter written by the prince
of
Izumo only the same morning. The great Inari temple of Inari in
the
castle groundsO-Shiroyama-no-InariSamawith its thousands upon
thousands of foxes of stone, is considered by the country people
a
striking proof of the devotion of the Matsudaira, not to Inari,
but to
foxes.

At present, however, it is no longer possible to establish distinctions
of genera in this ghostly zoology, where each species grows into
every
other. It is not even possible to disengage the ki or Soul of the
Fox
and the August-Spirit-of-Food from the confusion in which both have
become hopelessly blended, under the name Inari by the vague conception
of their peasant-worshippers. The old Shinto mythology is indeed
quite
explicit about the August-Spirit-of-Food, and quite silent upon
the
subject of foxes. But the peasantry in Izumo, like the peasantry
of
Catholic Europe, make mythology for themselves. If asked whether
they
pray to Inari as to an evil or a good deity, they will tell you
that
Inari is good, and that Inari-foxes are good. They will tell you
of
white foxes and dark foxesof foxes to be reverenced and foxes
to be
killedof the good fox which cries "kon-kon," and the evil fox
which
cries "kwai-kwai." But the peasant possessed by the fox cries out:
"I am
InariTamabushi-no-Inari!"or some other Inari.

5

Goblin foxes are peculiarly dreaded in Izumo for three evil habits
attributed to them. The first is that of deceiving people by
enchantment, either for revenge or pure mischief. The second is
that of
quartering themselves as retainers upon some family, and thereby
making
that family a terror to its neighbours. The third and worst is that
of
entering into people and taking diabolical possession of them and
tormenting them into madness. This affliction is called "kitsune-tsuki."

The favourite shape assumed by the goblin fox for the purpose of
deluding mankind is that of a beautiful woman; much less frequently
the
form of a young man is taken in order to deceive some one of the
other
sex. Innumerable are the stories told or written about the wiles
of fox-women. And a dangerous woman of that class whose art is to enslave
men,
and strip them of all they possess, is popularly named by a word
of
deadly insultkitsune.

Many declare that the fox never really assumes human shape; but
that he
only deceives people into the belief that he does so by a sort of
magnetic power, or by spreading about them a certain magical effluvium.

The fox does not always appear in the guise of a woman for evil
purposes. There are several stories, and one really pretty play,
about a
fox who took the shape of a beautiful woman, and married a man,
and bore
him childrenall out of gratitude for some favour receivedthe
happiness of the family being only disturbed by some odd carnivorous
propensities on the part of the offspring. Merely to achieve a
diabolical purpose, the form of a woman is not always the best disguise.
There are men quite insusceptible to feminine witchcraft. But the
fox is
never at a loss for a disguise; he can assume more forms than Proteus.
Furthermore, he can make you see or hear or imagine whatever he
wishes
you to see, hear, or imagine. He can make you see out of Time and
Space;
he can recall the past and reveal the future. His power has not
been
destroyed by the introduction of Western ideas; for did he not,
only a
few years ago, cause phantom trains to run upon the Tokkaido railway,
thereby greatly confounding, and terrifying the engineers of the
company? But, like all goblins, he prefers to haunt solitary places.
At
night he is fond of making queer ghostly lights, [8] in semblance
of
lantern-fires, flit about dangerous places; and to protect yourself
from
this trick of his, it is necessary to learn that by joining your
hands
in a particular way, so as to leave a diamond-shaped aperture between
the crossed fingers, you can extinguish the witch-fire at any distance
simply by blowing through the aperture in the direction of the light
and
uttering a certain Buddhist formula.

But it is not only at night that the fox manifests his power for
mischief: at high noon he may tempt you to go where you are sure
to get
killed, or frighten you into going by creating some apparition or
making
you imagine that you feel an earthquake. Consequently the old-fashioned
peasant, on seeing anything extremely queer, is slew to credit the
testimony of his own eyes. The most interesting and valuable witness
of
the stupendous eruption of Bandai-San in 1888which blew the huge
volcano to pieces and devastated an area of twenty-seven square
miles,
levelling forests, turning rivers from their courses, and burying
numbers of villages with all their inhabitantswas an old peasant
who
had watched the whole cataclysm from a neighbouring peak as
unconcernedly as if he had been looking at a drama. He saw a black
column of ashes and steam rise to the height of twenty thousand
feet and
spread out at its summit in the shape of an umbrella, blotting out
the
sun. Then he felt a strange rain pouring upon him, hotter than the
water
of a bath. Then all became black; and he felt the mountain beneath
him
shaking to its roots, and heard a crash of thunders that seemed
like the
sound of the breaking of a world. But he remained quite still until
everything was over. He had made up his mind not to be afraiddeeming
that all he saw and heard was delusion wrought by the witchcraft
of a
fox.

6

Strange is the madness of those into whom demon foxes enter. Sometimes
they run naked shouting through the streets. Sometimes they lie
down and
froth at the mouth, and yelp as a fox yelps. And on some part of
the
body of the possessed a moving lump appears under the skin, which
seems
to have a life of its own. Prick it with a needle, and it glides
instantly to another place. By no grasp can it be so tightly compressed
by a strong hand that it will not slip from under the fingers. Possessed
folk are also said to speak and write languages of which they were
totally ignorant prior to possession. They eat only what foxes are
believed to liketofu, aburage, [9] azukimeshi, [10] etc.and
they
eat a great deal, alleging that not they, but the possessing foxes,
are
hungry.

It not infrequently happens that the victims of fox-possession
are
cruelly treated by their relativesbeing severely burned and beaten
in
the hope that the fox may be thus driven away. Then the Hoin [11]
or
Yamabushi is sent forthe exorciser. The exorciser argues with
the
fox, who speaks through the mouth of the possessed. When the fox
is
reduced to silence by religious argument upon the wickedness of
possessing people, he usually agrees to go away on condition of
being
supplied with plenty of tofu or other food; and the food promised
must
be brought immediately to that particular Inari temple of which
the fox
declares himself a retainer. For the possessing fox, by whomsoever
sent,
usually confesses himself the servant of a certain Inari though
sometimes even calling himself the god.

As soon as the possessed has been freed from the possessor, he
falls
down senseless, and remains for a long time prostrate. And it is
said,
also, that he who has once been possessed by a fox will never again
be
able to eat tofu, aburage, azukimeshi, or any of those things which
foxes like.

7

It is believed that the Man-fox (Hito-kitsune) cannot be seen.
But if he
goes close to still water, his SHADOW can be seen in the water.
Those
"having foxes" are therefore supposed to avoid the vicinity of rivers
and ponds.

The invisible fox, as already stated, attaches himself to persons.
Like
a Japanese servant, he belongs to the household. But if a daughter
of
that household marry, the fox not only goes to that new family,
following the bride, but also colonises his kind in all those families
related by marriage or kinship with the husband's family. Now every
fox
is supposed to have a family of seventy-fiveneither more, nor
less
than seventy-fiveand all these must be fed. So that although such
foxes, like ghosts, eat very little individually, it is expensive
to
have foxes. The fox-possessors (kitsune-mochi) must feed their foxes
at
regular hours; and the foxes always eat firstall the seventy-live.
As
soon as the family rice is cooked in the kama (a great iron cooking-pot), the kitsune-mochi taps loudly on the side of the vessel, and
uncovers it. Then the foxes rise up through the floor. And although
their eating is soundless to human ear and invisible to human eye,
the
rice slowly diminishes. Wherefore it is fearful for a poor man to
have
foxes.

But the cost of nourishing foxes is the least evil connected with
the
keeping of them. Foxes have no fixed code of ethics, and have proved
themselves untrustworthy servants. They may initiate and long maintain
the prosperity of some family; but should some grave misfortune
fall
upon that family in spite of the efforts of its seventy-five invisible
retainers, then these will suddenly flee away, taking all the valuables
of the household along with them. And all the fine gifts that foxes
bring to their masters are things which have been stolen from somebody
else. It is therefore extremely immoral to keep foxes. It is also
dangerous for the public peace, inasmuch as a fox, being a goblin,
and
devoid of human susceptibilities, will not take certain precautions.
He
may steal the next-door neighbour's purse by night and lay it at
his own
master's threshold, so that if the next-door neighbour happens to
get up
first and see it there is sure to be a row.

Another evil habit of foxes is that of making public what they
hear said
in private, and taking it upon themselves to create undesirable
scandal.
For example, a fox attached to the family of Kobayashi-San hears
his
master complain about his neighbour Nakayama-San, whom he secretly
dislikes. Therewith the zealous retainer runs to the house of Nakayama-San, and enters into his body, and torments him grievously, saying:
"I
am the retainer of Kobayashi-San to whom you did such-and-such a
wrong;
and until such time as he command me to depart, I shall continue
to
torment you."

And last, but worst of all the risks of possessing foxes, is the
danger
that they may become wroth with some member of the family. Certainly
a
fox may be a good friend, and make rich the home in which he is
domiciled. But as he is not human, and as his motives and feelings
are
not those of men, but of goblins, it is difficult to avoid incurring
his
displeasure. At the most unexpected moment he may take offence without
any cause knowingly having been given, and there is no saying what
the
consequences may be. For the fox possesses Instinctive Infinite
Vision
and the Ten-Ni-Tsun, or All-Hearing Earand the Ta-Shin-Tsun, which
is
the Knowledge of the Most Secret Thoughts of Othersand Shiyuku-Mei-Tsun, which is the Knowledge of the Pastand Zhin-Kiyan-Tsun, which
means the Knowledge of the Universal Presentand also the Powers
of
Transformation and of Transmutation. [12] So that even without including
his special powers of bewitchment, he is by nature a being almost
omnipotent for evil.

8

For all these reasons, and. doubtless many more, people believed
to have
foxes are shunned. Intermarriage with a fox-possessing family is
out of
the question; and many a beautiful and accomplished girl in Izumo
cannot
secure a husband because of the popular belief that her family harbours
foxes. As a rule, Izumo girls do not like to marry out of their
own
province; but the daughters of a kitsune-mochi must either marry
into
the family of another kitsune-mochi, or find a husband far away
from the
Province of the Gods. Rich fox-possessing families have not overmuch
difficulty in disposing of their daughters by one of the means above
indicated; but many a fine sweet girl of the poorer kitsune-mochi
is
condemned by superstition to remain unwedded. It is not because
there
are none to love her and desirous of marrying heryoung men who
have
passed through public schools and who do not believe in foxes. It
is
because popular superstition cannot be yet safely defied in country
districts except by the wealthy. The consequences of such defiance
would
have to be borne, not merely by the husband, but by his whole family,
and by all other families related thereunto. Which are consequences
to
be thought about!

Among men believed to have foxes there are some who know how to
turn the
superstition to good account. The country-folk, as a general rule,
are
afraid of giving offence to a kitsune-mochi, lest he should send
some of
his invisible servants to take possession of them. Accordingly,
certain
kitsune-mochi have obtained great ascendancy over the communities
in
which they live. In the town of Yonago, for example, there is a
certain
prosperous chonin whose will is almost law, and whose opinions are
never
opposed. He is practically the ruler of the place, and in a fair
way of
becoming a very wealthy man. All because he is thought to have foxes.

Wrestlers, as a class, boast of their immunity from fox-possession,
and
care neither for kitsune-mochi nor for their spectral friends. Very
strong men are believed to be proof against all such goblinry. Foxes
are
said to be afraid of them, and instances are cited of a possessing
fox
declaring: "I wished to enter into your brother, but he was too
strong
for me; so I have entered into you, as I am resolved to be revenged
upon
some one of your family."

9

Now the belief in foxes does not affect persons only: it affects
property. It affects the value of real estate in Izumo to the amount
of
hundreds of thousands.

The land of a family supposed to have foxes cannot be sold at a
fair
price. People are afraid to buy it; for it is believed the foxes
may
ruin the new proprietor. The difficulty of obtaining a purchaser
is most
great in the case of land terraced for rice-fields, in the mountain
districts. The prime necessity of such agriculture is irrigation
irrigation by a hundred ingenious devices, always in the face of
difficulties. There are seasons when water becomes terribly scarce,
and
when the peasants will even fight for water. It is feared that on
lands
haunted by foxes, the foxes may turn the water away from one field
into
another, or, for spite, make holes in the dikes and so destroy the
crop.

There are not wanting shrewd men to take advantage of this queer
belief.
One gentleman of Matsue, a good agriculturist of the modern school,
speculated in the fox-terror fifteen years ago, and purchased a
vast
tract of land in eastern Izumo which no one else would bid for.
That
land has sextupled in value, besides yielding generously under his
system of cultivation; and by selling it now he could realise an
immense
fortune. His success, and the fact of his having been an official
of the
government, broke the spell: it is no longer believed that his farms
are
fox-haunted. But success alone could not have freed the soil from
the
curse of the superstition. The power of the farmer to banish the
foxes
was due to his official character. With the peasantry, the word
"Government" is talismanic.

Indeed, the richest and the most successful farmer of Izumo, worth
more
than a hundred thousand yenWakuri-San of Chinomiya in Kandegoriis
almost universally believed by the peasantry to be a kitsune-mochi.
They
tell curious stories about him. Some say that when a very poor man
he
found in the woods one day a little white fox-cub, and took it home,
and
petted it, and gave it plenty of tofu, azukimeshi, and aburagethree
sorts of food which foxes loveand that from that day prosperity
came
to him. Others say that in his house there is a special zashiki,
or
guest-room for foxes; and that there, once in each month, a great
banquet is given to hundreds of Hito-kitsune. But Chinomiya-no-Wakuri,
as they call him, canaffordto laugh at all these tales. He is a
refined
man, highly respected in cultivated circles where superstition never
enters

10

When a Ninko comes to your house at night and knocks, there is
a peculiar muffled sound about the knocking by which you can tell
that the visitor is a foxif you have experienced ears. For a fox
knocks at doors with its tail. If you open, then you will see a
man, or perhaps a beautiful girl, who will talk to you only in fragments
of words, but nevertheless in such a way that you can perfectly
well understand. A fox cannot pronounce a whole word, but a part
onlyas "Nish . . . Sa. . ." for "Nishida-San"; "degoz . . ." for
"degozarimasu, or "uch . . . de . .?" for "uchi desuka?" Then, if
you are a friend of foxes, the visitor will present you with a little
gift of some sort, and at once vanish away into the darkness. Whatever
the gift may be, it will seem much larger that night than in the
morning. Only a part of a fox-gift is real.

A Matsue shizoku, going home one night by way of the street called
Horomachi, saw a fox running for its life pursued by dogs. He beat
the
dogs off with his umbrella, thus giving the fox a chance to escape.
On
the following evening he heard some one knock at his door, and on
opening the to saw a very pretty girl standing there, who said to
him:
"Last night I should have died but for your august kindness. I know
not
how to thank you enough: this is only a pitiable little present.
And she
laid a small bundle at his feet and went away. He opened the bundle
and
found two beautiful ducks and two pieces of silver moneythose
long,
heavy, leaf-shaped pieces of moneyeach worth ten or twelve dollars
such as are now eagerly sought for by collectors of antique things.
After a little while, one of the coins changed before his eyes into
a
piece of grass; the other was always good.

Sugitean-San, a physician of Matsue, was called one evening to
attend a
case of confinement at a house some distance from the city, on the
hill
called Shiragayama. He was guided by a servant carrying a paper
lantern
painted with an aristocratic crest. [13] He entered into a magnificent
house, where he was received with superb samurai courtesy. The mother
was safely delivered of a fine boy. The family treated the physician
to
an excellent dinner, entertained him elegantly, and sent him home,
loaded with presents and money. Next day he went, according to Japanese
etiquette, to return thanks to his hosts. He could not find the
house:
there was, in fact, nothing on Shiragayama except forest. Returning
home, he examined again the gold which had been paid to him. All
was
good except one piece, which had changed into grass.

11

Curious advantages have been taken of the superstitions relating
to the
Fox-God.

In Matsue, several years ago, there was a tofuya which enjoyed
an
unusually large patronage. A tofuya is a shop where tofu is solda
curd prepared from beans, and much resembling good custard in
appearance. Of all eatable things, foxes are most fond of tofu and
of
soba, which is a preparation of buckwheat. There is even a legend
that a
fox, in the semblance of an elegantly attired man, once visited
Nogi-no-Kuriharaya, a popular sobaya on the lake shore, and ate much soba.
But
after the guest was gone, the money he had paid changed into wooden
shavings.

The proprietor of the tofuya had a different experience. A man
in
wretched attire used to come to his shop every evening to buy a
cho of
tofu, which he devoured on the spot with the haste of one long famished.
Every evening for weeks he came, and never spoke; but the landlord
saw
one evening the tip of a bushy white tail protruding from beneath
the
stranger's rags. The sight aroused strange surmises and weird hopes.
From that night he began to treat the mysterious visitor with obsequious
kindness. But another month passed before the latter spoke. Then
what he
said was about as follows:

"Though I seem to you a man, I am not a man; and I took upon myself
human form only for the purpose of visiting you. I come from Taka-machi, where my temple is, at which you often visit. And being desirous
to reward your piety and goodness of heart, I have come to-night
to save
you from a great danger. For by the power which I possess I know
that
tomorrow this street will burn, and all the houses in it shall be
utterly destroyed except yours. To save it I am going to make a
charm.
But in order that I may do this, you must open your go-down (kura)
that
I may enter, and allow no one to watch me; for should living eye
look
upon me there, the charm will not avail."

The shopkeeper, with fervent words of gratitude, opened his storehouse,
and reverently admitted the seeming Inari and gave orders that none
of
his household or servants should keep watch. And these orders were
so
well obeyed that all the stores within the storehouse, and all the
valuables of the family, were removed without hindrance during the
night. Next day the kura was found to be empty. And there was no
fire.

There is also a well-authenticated story about another wealthy
shopkeeper of Matsue who easily became the prey of another pretended
Inari This Inari told him that whatever sum of money he should leave
at
a certain miya by night, he would find it doubled in the morningas
the reward of his lifelong piety. The shopkeeper carried several
small
sums to the miya, and found them doubled within twelve hours. Then
he
deposited larger sums, which were similarly multiplied; he even
risked
some hundreds of dollars, which were duplicated. Finally he took
all his
money out of the bank and placed it one evening within the shrine
of the
godand never saw it again.

12

Vast is the literature of the subject of foxesghostly foxes.
Some of
it is old as the eleventh century. In the ancient romances and the
modern cheap novel, in historical traditions and in popular fairy-tales,
foxes perform wonderful parts. There are very beautiful and very
sad and
very terrible stories about foxes. There are legends of foxes discussed
by great scholars, and legends of foxes known to every child in
Japan
such as the history of Tamamonomae, the beautiful favourite of the
Emperor TobaTamamonomae, whose name has passed into a proverb,
and
who proved at last to be only a demon fox with Nine Tails and Fur
of
Gold. But the most interesting part of fox-literature belongs to
the
Japanese stage, where the popular beliefs are often most humorously
reflectedas in the following excerpts from the comedy of Hiza-Kuruge,
written by one Jippensha Ikku:

[Kidahachi and Iyaji are travelling from Yedo to Osaka. When within
a
short distance of Akasaka, Kidahachi hastens on in advance to secure
good accommodations at the best inn. Iyaji, travelling along leisurely,
stops a little while at a small wayside refreshment-house kept by
an old
woman]

OLD WOMAN.Please take some tea, sir.
IYAJI.Thank you! How far is it from here to the next town?Akasaka?
OLD WOMAN.About one ri. But if you have no companion, you had
better remain here to-night, because there is a bad fox on the way,
who bewitches travellers.
IYAJI.I am afraid of that sort of thing. But I must go on; for
my companion has gone on ahead of me, and will be waiting for me.

[After having paid for his refreshments, lyaji proceeds on his
way. The
night is very dark, and he feels quite nervous on account of what
the
old woman has told him. After having walked a considerable distance,
he
suddenly hears a fox yelpingkon-kon. Feeling still more afraid,
he
shouts at the top of his voice:-]

IYAJI.Come near me, and I will kill you!

[Meanwhile Kidahachi, who has also been frightened by the old woman's
stories, and has therefore determined to wait for lyaji, is saying
to
himself in the dark: "If I do not wait for him, we shall certainly
be
deluded." Suddenly he hears lyaji's voice, and cries out to him:-]

KIDAHACHI.O lyaji-San!
IYAJI.What are you doing there?
KIDAHACHI.I did intend to go on ahead; but I became afraid, and
so I concluded to stop here and wait for you.
IYAJI (who imagines that the fox has taken the shape of Kidahachi
to deceive him).Do not think that you are going to dupe me?
KIDAHACHI.That is a queer way to talk! I have some nice mochi
[14] here which I bought for you.
IYAJI.Horse-dung cannot be eaten! [15]
KIDAHACHI.Don't be suspicious!I am really Kidahachi.
IYAJI (springing upon him furiously).Yes! you took the form of
Kidahachi just to deceive me!
KIDAHACHI.What do you mean?What are you going to do to me?
IYAJI.I am going to kill you! (Throws him down.)
KIDAHACHI.Oh! you have hurt me very muchplease leave me alone!
IYAJI.If you are really hurt, then let me see you in your real
shape! (They struggle together.)
KIDAHACHI.What are you doing?putting your hand there?
IYAJI.I am feeling for your tail. If you don't put out your tail
at once, I shall make you! (Takes his towel, and with it ties Kidahachi's
hands behind his back, and then drives him before him.)
KIDAHACHI.Please untie meplease untie me first!

[By this time they have almost reached Akasaka, and lyaji, seeing
a dog,
calls the animal, and drags Kidahachi close to it; for a dog is
believed
to be able to detect a fox through any disguise. But the dog takes
no
notice of Kidahachi. lyaji therefore unties him, and apologises;
and
they both laugh at their previous fears.]

13

But there are some very pleasing forms of the Fox-God.

For example, there stands in a very obscure street of Matsueone
of those streets no stranger is likely to enter unless he loses
his waya temple called Jigyoba-no-Inari, [16] and also Kodomo-no-Inari,
or "the Children's Inari." It is very small, but very famous;
and it has been recently presented with a pair of new stone foxes,
very large, which have gilded teeth and a peculiarly playful expression
of countenance. These sit one on each side of the gate: the Male
grinning with open jaws, the Female demure, with mouth closed. [17]
In the court you will find many ancient little foxes with noses,
heads, or tails broken, two great Karashishi before which straw
sandals (waraji) have been suspended as votive offerings by somebody
with sore feet who has prayed to the Karashishi-Sama that they will
heal his affliction, and a shrine of Kojin, occupied by the corpses
of many children's dolls. [18]

The grated doors of the shrine of Jigyoba-no-Inari, like those
of the
shrine of Yaegaki, are white with the multitude of little papers
tied to
them, which papers signify prayers. But the prayers are special
and
curious. To right and to left of the doors, and also above them,
odd
little votive pictures are pasted upon the walls, mostly representing
children in bath-tubs, or children getting their heads shaved. There
are
also one or two representing children at play. Now the interpretation
of
these signs and wonders is as follows:

Doubtless you know that Japanese children, as well as Japanese
adults,
must take a hot bath every day; also that it is the custom to shave
the
heads of very small boys and girls. But in spite of hereditary patience
and strong ancestral tendency to follow ancient custom, young children
find both the razor and the hot bath difficult to endure, with their
delicate skins. For the Japanese hot bath is very hot (not less
than 110
degs F., as a general rule), and even the adult foreigner must learn
slowly to bear it, and to appreciate its hygienic value. Also, the
Japanese razor is a much less perfect instrument than ours, and
is used
without any lather, and is apt to hurt a little unless used by the
most
skilful hands. And finally, Japanese parents are not tyrannical
with
their children: they pet and coax, very rarely compel or terrify.
So
that it is quite a dilemma for them when the baby revolts against
the
bath or mutinies against the razor.

The parents of the child who refuses to be shaved or bathed have
recourse to Jigyoba-no-Inati. The god is besought to send one of
his
retainers to amuse the child, and reconcile it to the new order
of
things, and render it both docile and happy. Also if a child is
naughty,
or falls sick, this Inari is appealed to. If the prayer be granted,
some
small present is made to the templesometimes a votive picture,
such
as those pasted by the door, representing the successful result
of the
petition. To judge by the number of such pictures, and by the prosperity
of the temple, the Kodomo-no-Inani would seem to deserve his popularity.
Even during the few minutes I passed in his court I saw three young
mothers, with infants at their backs, come to the shrine and pray
and make offerings. I noticed that one of the childrenremarkably
prettyhad never been shaved at all. This was evidently a very
obstinate case.

While returning from my visit to the Jigyoba Inani, my Japanese
servant, who had guided me there, told me this story:

The son of his next-door neighbour, a boy of seven, went out to
play one
morning, and disappeared for two days. The parents were not at first
uneasy, supposing that the child had gone to the house of a relative,
where he was accustomed to pass a day or two from time to time.
But on
the evening of the second day it was learned that the child had
not been
at the house in question. Search was at once made; but neither search
nor inquiry availed. Late at night, however, a knock was heard at
the
door of the boy's dwelling, and the mother, hurrying out, found
her
truant fast asleep on the ground. She could not discover who had
knocked. The boy, upon being awakened, laughed, and said that on
the
morning of his disappearance he had met a lad of about his own age,
with very pretty eyes, who had coaxed him away to the woods, where
they had played together all day and night and the next day at very
curious funny games. But at last he got sleepy, and his comrade
took him home. He was not hungry. The comrade promised "to come
to-morrow."

But the mysterious comrade never came; and no boy of the description
given lived in the neighbourhood. The inference was that the comrade
was a fox who wanted to have a little fun. The subject of the fun
mourned long in vain for his merry companion.

14

Some thirty years ago there lived in Matsue an ex-wrestler named
Tobikawa, who was a relentless enemy of foxes and used to hunt and
kill
them. He was popularly believed to enjoy immunity from bewitchment
because of his immense strength; but there were some old folks who
predicted that he would not die a natural death. This prediction
was
fulfilled:

Tobikawa died in a very curious manner. He was excessively fond
of
practical jokes. One day he disguised himself as a Tengu, or sacred
goblin, with wings and claws and long nose, and ascended a lofty
tree in
a sacred grove near Rakusan, whither, after a little while, the
innocent
peasants thronged to worship him with offerings. While diverting
himself
with this spectacle, and trying to play his part by springing nimbly
from one branch to another, he missed his footing and broke his
neck in
the fall.

15

But these strange beliefs are swiftly passing away. Year by year
more
shrines of Inari crumble down, never to be rebuilt. Year by year
the
statuaries make fewer images of foxes. Year by year fewer victims
of
fox-possession are taken to the hospitals to be treated according
to the
best scientific methods by Japanese physicians who speak German.
The
cause is not to be found in the decadence of the old faiths: a
superstition outlives a religion. Much less is it to be sought for
in
the efforts of proselytising missionaries from the Westmost of
whom
profess an earnest belief in devils. It is purely educational. The
omnipotent enemy of superstition is the public school, where the
teaching of modern science is unclogged by sectarianism or prejudice;
where the children of the poorest may learn the wisdom of the Occident;
where there is not a boy or a girl of fourteen ignorant of the great
names of Tyndall, of Darwin, of Huxley, of Herbert Spencer. The
little
hands that break the Fox-god's nose in mischievous play can also
write
essays upon the evolution of plants and about the geology of Izumo.
There is no place for ghostly foxes in the beautiful nature-world
revealed by new studies to the new generation The omnipotent exorciser
and reformer is the Kodomo.

Notes for Chapter Fifteen

1 Toyo-uke-bime-no-Kami, or Uka-no-mi-tana ('who has also eight
other names), is a female divinity, according to the Kojiki and
its commentators. Moreover, the greatest of all Shinto scholars,
Hirata, as
cited by Satow, says there is really no such god as Inari-San at
all
that the very name is an error. But the common people have created
the
God Inari: therefore he must be presumed to existif only for
folklorists; and I speak of him as a male deity because I see him
so
represented in pictures and carvings. As to his mythological existence,
his great and wealthy temple at Kyoto is impressive testimony.

2 The white fox is a favourite subject with Japanese artists. Some
very
beautiful kakemono representing white foxes were on display at the
Tokyo exhibition of 1890. Phosphorescent foxes often appear in the
old
coloured prints, now so rare and precious, made by artists whose
names
have become world-famous. Occasionally foxes are represented wandering
about at night, with lambent tongues of dim firekitsune-biabove
their heads. The end of the fox's tail, both in sculpture and drawing,
is ordinarily decorated with the symbolic jewel (tama) of old Buddhist
art. I have in my possession one kakemono representing a white fox
with
a luminous jewel in its tail. I purchased it at the Matsue temple
of
Inari"O-Shiroyama-no-Inari-Sama." The art of the kakemono is clumsy;
but the conception possesses curious interest.

3 The Japanese candle has a large hollow paper wick. It is usually
placed upon an iron point which enters into the orifice of the wick
at
the flat end.

4 See Professor Chamberlain's Things Japanese, under the title
"Demoniacal Possession."

5 Translated by Walter Dening.

6 The word shizoku is simply the Chinese for samurai. But the term
now
means little more than "gentleman" in England.

7 The fox-messenger travels unseen. But if caught in a trap, or
injured, his magic fails him, and he becomes visible.

8 The Will-o'-the-Wisp is called Kitsune-bi, or "fox-fire."

9 "Aburage" is a name given to fried bean-curds or tofu.

10 Azukimeshi is a preparation of red beans boiled with rice.

11 The Hoin or Yamabushi was a Buddhist exorciser, usually a priest.
Strictly speaking, the Hoin was a Yamabushi of higher rank. The
Yamabushi used to practise divination as well as exorcism. They
were
forbidden to exercise these professions by the present government;
and
most of the little temples formerly occupied by them have disappeared
or
fallen into ruin. But among the peasantry Buddhist exorcisers are
still
called to attend cases of fox-possession, and while acting as exorcisers
are still spoken of as Yamabushi.

12 A most curious paper on the subject of Ten-gan, or Infinite
Vision
being the translation of a Buddhist sermon by the priest Sata Kaiseki
appeared in vol. vii. of the Transactions of the Asiatic Society
of
Japan, from the pen of Mr. J. M. James. It contains an interesting
consideration of the supernatural powers of the Fox.

13 All the portable lanterns used to light the way upon dark nights
bear a mon or crest of the owner.

14 Cakes made of rice flour and often sweetened with sugar.

15 It is believed that foxes amuse themselves by causing people
to eat
horse-dung in the belief that they are eating mochi, or to enter
a
cesspool in the belief they are taking a bath.

16 In Jigyobamachi, a name signifying "earthwork-street."
It stands upon land reclaimed from swamp.

17 This seems to be the immemorial artistic law for the demeanour
of all symbolic guardians of holy places, such as the Karashishi,
and the Ascending and Descending Dragons carved upon panels, or
pillars. At Kumano temple even the Suijin, or warrior-guardians,
who frown behind the gratings of the chambers of the great gateway,
are thus representedone with mouth open, the other with closed
lips.

On inquiring about the origin of this distinction between the two
symbolic figures, I was told by a young Buddhist scholar that the
male figure in such representations is supposed to be pronouncing
the sound "A," and the figure with closed lips the sound
of nasal "N "-corresponding to the Alpha and Omega of
the Greek alphabet, and also emblematic of the Beginning and the
End. In the Lotos of the Good Law, Buddha so reveals himself, as
the cosmic Alpha and Omega, and the Father of the World,like
Krishna in the Bhagavad-Gita.

Issendai's note: Nowadays, these figures are sometimes called
"Ah" and "Un," both of which are casual ways
of saying "Yes."

18 There is one exception to the general custom of giving the dolls
of
dead children, or the wrecks of dolls, to Kojin. Those images of
the God
of Calligraphy and Scholarship which are always presented as gifts
to
boys on the Boys' Festival are given, when broken, to Tenjin himself,
not to Kojin; at least such is the custom in Matsue.

This story appears in Glimpses
of Unfamiliar Japan, by Lafcadio Hearn. It and its illustrations
are available thanks to the efforts of Project Gutenberg, whose
license states:

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